And so it came to pass that the middle-aged curmudgeon, faced with the certain knowledge that his metabolism had all but closed down, and even walking past a Burger King did causeth him to gain weight, decided to do something about it...and the Lord looketh upon him and sayeth "At fucking last!"

​Yes, I've decided to bite the bullet (just so long as there's no carbohydrates in it) and take myself into a land where carbs are the enemy. Of course, being a person with diabetes, carbohydrates are already on the radar...but that's about it. Now, I really need to get something done about my weight before it becomes even more difficult to control, and I'm reduced to a diet of air and water.

​I refuse to adopt any of the advertised plans out there, and in true bloody-minded fashion I shall try to work it out myself without any help from the so-called experts who seem to change their minds every few years anyway.

​Soon, therefore, I shall be a veritable racing snake; an athlete once again and with the world at my feet (just as soon as I can see them over my belly once more). I shall also avoid giving you regular updates on my progress. This is mostly because I know that such posts are as boring as watching a turd air-dry, but also because the chance of abject failure is, in my case, reasonably high, and I don't really want to have to make any embarrassing admissions.